


Drops of Jupiter

by fangoyle



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Space, Cyborg Escorts, Intergalactic Soldiers, Memory Loss, Multi, Starcrossed Lovers, Yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangoyle/pseuds/fangoyle
Summary: “You’re my vice.” A man pulls your legs around his waist so that you’re straddling his muscular thighs and traces gentle circles on your knees. His fingers travel up the side of your body, skirting your hips and shoulders until he reaches the edge of your jaw. “You’re my favorite bad habit.”You rest your forehead against his, smiling, avoiding his eyes.“And you can’t seem to kick it…”
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Kim Yongsun | Solar, Park Jinyoung (GOT7)/You
Kudos: 5





	Drops of Jupiter

Your dreams begin the same way they always do: the stage is set in a stark, white void and slowly colors as the sound of foreign voices become increasingly familiar.

“You’re my vice.” A man pulls your legs around his waist so that you’re straddling his muscular thighs and traces gentle circles on your knees. His fingers travel up the side of your body, skirting your hips and shoulders until he reaches the edge of your jaw. “You’re my favorite bad habit.”

You rest your forehead against his, smiling, avoiding his eyes.

“And you can’t seem to kick it…” 

He brushes his knuckles against your cheekbones, before entangling his fingers in your hair. “And I don’t ever want to…” 

Finally, you look into his dark eyes, they crinkle at the corners like cat whiskers and shine at you with affection. You cradle his jaw with your hands, searching his face for more answers than he had. “This probably won’t end well for either of us now will it?” 

“Probably not…” 

  
He kisses you anyways, but that’s where it ends, an endless kiss that disappears the moment you’re rudely awakened by Master V. For the longest time, you’ve thought of it as nothing more than a fantasy to look forward to at the end of the day until you met _him_.

🚀

Painted girls and boys dance in gleaming cages and swing their bodies around shimmering poles, performing all sorts of tricks. 

They are entrancing, but none are as beguiling as you.

Arrested by the sway of your hips, a man in black watches you from his throne, dissociating from the whispers of his top advisors. He’s got the best view in The Dream Factory, the most exclusive club this side of the galaxy, notorious for concocting the elaborate fantasies of its patrons. There may have been others doting on him and his men, dancing in their laps, nipping at their necks, and giggling at the war stories and antics his men regaled them with, but he can’t be bothered, he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

You, this siren, at times seem as though you aren’t just a perfectly calibrated fantasy, you seem painfully real, a harsh reminder of a girl he once knew, a girl he once loved. Perhaps that’s what made the Dream Factory so deceptively good at what they do, they don’t project the fantasy you distract yourself with, they project the fantasy you yearn for. There were certain perks in employing cyborgs, they were programmed to please. 

“Boss, which one do you have your eye on tonight?” 

His advisor to his right, Lieutenant Lim, leans in too close, intoxicated. He licks his lips with intent, ensnared in another dancer’s trap. She’s a hypnotic clash of colors; her hair swirls around her in a half-neon green and half-black haze and when she lays her eyes on Lim, she winks in his direction, effectively startling him from his trance. His eyes flick to his superior, scrutinizing him as he awaits a response, his disarming gaze unflinching, one eye as red as blood and the other almost as dark as space itself. 

The man in black adjusts the tight collar of his uniform, that of a high-ranking commander; the medals and awards decorating his chest chime. He swallows and nods in your direction, “I want _her._ ”

The tassels of your silver lingerie float about your figure and sparkle as you move to the sultry beat, creating an ethereal aura outlining your body’s every movement. _Enchanting._

“ _Fuck!_ I was gonna choose that one, too _,”_ his advisor to his left, Lieutenant Tuan, huffs, blowing dark blue strands of hair from his brow. He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “Why does this shit always have to happen?” 

“It just means you’ve got good taste.” The Commander claps him on the back, before rising, “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone, you always do.” 

“Besides,” Lim slurs and smooths out his grey lieutenant uniform as he stands. “Any of these _halflings_ should consider it their patriotic duty, we’re intergalactic heroes for fuck’s sake! We risked our lives and lived to tell the tale, we deserve some good pussy as compensation.” 

The Commander glares at Lim. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe some of us genuinely wanted to save the galaxy?” 

“Don’t get all high and mighty with me, Boss,” Lim smirks. “If you’re telling me that the spoils of victory haven’t crossed your mind then I’m afraid I’d have to call you a damn liar.” 

“Say what you will,” Tuan mutters under his breath. “At least _Commander Park_ doesn’t dehumanize the sex workers by calling them halflings.” 

Lim rolls his eyes but before he can respond, Park nearly growls, “Don’t. We’re not here for kicks, you can have your fun on the side, sure, but just remember, there’s a lot more at stake than getting your dicks wet. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” They say in near unison, but the tension between them doesn’t dissipate. Park slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket to fish what looks to be an old relic, a timepiece of a long-forgotten past, but upon second glance it glows with much more information than just seconds and minutes. It’s a complicated device but its screen carries the whereabouts of his target, his true reason for partaking in this seedy affair.

He strides forward and his lieutenants follow towards the holoscreen to cast their respective bids for an unforgettable, boozy night beneath the stars. This sort of hedonism is allowed to run rampant and unregulated on the majority of illegal casinos and resorts of the Asteroid Belt, but the Dream Factory has a darker scheme at play. Bidding on humans (or half-humans at least) for the pleasure of their company is a reckless pastime for the rich and powerful, the Dream Factory simply provides the toys and the playground. 

He finds this sort of lifestyle to be aimless and empty, he hates when there is no rhyme or reason, no drive. And not that he would say the words out loud, but a part of him misses the war if only for the sense of purpose it brought him. His life is empty without it.

When the war ended, many went back to the people they left behind, not everyone was so lucky, the girl he left behind died at the hands of disgruntled alien stragglers stranded on Earth after a string of unsuccessful invasions. He had been shipped off to Mars long ago to the front lines when an entire city was leveled by an induced earthquake, the city where they once shared a small five-floor walk-up, where she had been awaiting his return. 

The girl he loved was lost to a sea of debris, and her body, like thousands of others, was never recovered. He channeled his grief into his work, where he found immense success as a strategist, leading him to rise through the ranks. 

Yet no matter what he did, nothing, no matter how hard he tried, could ever fill the void that she left behind. 

🚀

An Earth name, _Park Jinyoung,_ blinks obnoxiously from the neon blue sign above the door. It’s rare to meet a man from Earth these days, they hardly favor space travel, preferring to keep to their beautiful planet. 

He arrives with Master V in the hall of one-way mirrors, you watch him beyond the glass from your lazy perch atop a heart-shaped bed, he’s handsome and younger than most of the men that have bid on you. He isn’t ostentatious either, but you can tell by the ease of his stride and the slow tilt of his wicked grin that he knows something you don’t, he knows the comforts that only millions could buy. 

And you, you’re the diamond that patrons fight over tooth and nail, pouring thousands of money into the pockets of hustlers like Master V all for a bidding war over some little cyborg they’ll fuck and forget about the next day. You’re nothing but a cheap thrill for men like Jinyoung, the thought of which makes your blood boil. Thank god for Master V’s memory machines, they wipe away whatever you want to forget while you sleep, making this job a little more bearable. 

You watch Master V, ever the charmer, crack a joke and walk away, but what fascinates you is Jinyoung’s reaction. He laughs warmly, his eyes crinkle in amusement, yet as soon as V is out of sight, the joy is wiped clean off his face and all there's left is something unmistakably anxious. For what? You’re not certain. 

He swipes his holocard and enters, when his eyes meet yours, he stops in his tracks, and the gravity of his stare leaves you breathless. 

This could be fun, it isn’t often that a stranger can make you feel next to anything.

He approaches you slowly and extends a hand, formal and absolutely nothing like the rough patrons you're used to it. You slide your hand onto his, noting the scarred palm and the callouses that tell you that he hasn't always lived life large enough to stay on this side of the galaxy. 

“I’d like you to call me by my name,” he unties the muzzle that inhibits your speech, releasing you. “It’s been so long since I last heard it, let alone from the lips of a beautiful woman.”

You jut your jaw out and furrow your brow, skeptical.

"C’mon," he pleads with a foreign lilt to his words, softly tucking strands behind your ear. “I want to know the voice that matches this pretty face.”

“You’re a long way from home, _Jinyoung_ .” Your voice emerges at last, dark and low with mischief, Jinyoung's breath catches in his throat, perhaps finally realizing that his state of control may be illusory. “What business could _your kind_ possibly have here?”

For a moment, he freezes, regarding you with nothing but deep, intense sorrow.

“T-tell me.” He tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, searching your face for answers as though you were an algorithm he was trying to decipher. “Do you know who you are?” 

“I’m whoever you want me to be.” 

The same old script slides off your tongue with ease, but the words don’t have their intended effect, instead, he stumbles back, his hands once warm on your face fly to his mouth in horror. His chest rises and falls with panic, and for what reason, you’re not exactly sure. 

“Have I done something to upset you? Perhaps you’d like a different dream tonight?” 

Apprehensive, you step toward him, gently touching his forearm.

His eyes flit to your hand and then back to your face, then he whispers words laced with pain, “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

“Believe me when I say I wish I did,” you gaze up at him earnestly, caressing his cheek with your palm. “But memory isn't a luxury for people like me, the man you met outside wipes my memory at the end of each day, so let's enjoy the time we have together while we can."

For a moment, his eyes twinkle with ideas. They're as black as the starry sky, endlessly dark, yet beguiling. 

"What if I told you that there was a way you could escape this wretched place?"

"I would say," you lean in, barely an inch away from his lips. " _Te_ _ll me more,_ Park Jinyoung."


End file.
